John Watson to the rescue!
by Ancki
Summary: John -ever the good doctor- comes across some medical issues with his friends during his life in 221B
1. Chapter 1

**Soooo here it is my first Sherlock fanfiction :) I hope you like it and please leave a comment ;) **

**My native language is not english it´s german so if you find any mistakes SORRY :( I don´t have someone to beta my stories, if anyone feels up for it feel free to contact me anytime ;) **

**Also I don´t own any of this I just borrowed ;D **

**Enjoy**

Sherlock woke up rather late feeling run over by a truck . It had started yesterday evening when his throat began to feel sore and his head started to hurt . But the consulting detective had not expected it to get this bad, this fast. He crawled out of bed and lurched to the bathroom. When Sherlock took a good look at himself in the mirror, he thought about a way to hide his illness from his flatmate and friend John Watson. It was going to be really hard but he would have to, because John would start hovering over him all day and all night and he would not let Sherlock solve any Cases for Lestrade at all. So he decided on taking a shower first, maybe he would look a bit better after that. Which was a big disappointment, he still was pale and his cheeks were flushed, dark circles under his eyes spoke of lying awake half of last night. He simply could not sleep, not with his body being unable to decide if he was hot or if he was freezing.

Sherlock went back to his room to get dressed. John was already at work so he would not have to worry about him till after lunch, which was great because he had work to do.

When Sherlock arrived at Scotland Yard Lestrade took a good look before asking "Sherlock are you alright?" "Yes, fine perfectly fine" Sherlock answered passing Lestrade on the way to his office "So" He said turning around, his long coat floating heroically through the air "what do you have for me?" "I don´t have anything I told you on the Phone I…." "You always have something Lestrade come on I am bored!" he cut the DI off. Greg let out a long sigh while letting himself slump into the chair behind his desk. "You don´t look up for it today. Go home, rest I´ll call you once I find something interesting for you to stick your nose in, alright?" He said looking at Sherlock in a kind of caring way. But the detective just got angry with him "If you are hiding something from me I will find out sooner or later so you better tell me while I am still in the mood to help you!" Lestrade stood up again both of his hands flat on the desk his eyes on Sherlock "For god´s sake Sherlock GO HOME!" He yelled one of his hands now pointing towards the door his face red with anger. Sherlock, nearly surprised with Greg´s reaction opened his mouth to say something but Lestrade was quicker "OUT!" was the last thing he said before shoving the detective out of his office and into the hallway the door behind him slamming shut and locking.

Arriving back home Sherlock threw his coat into a corner, popped his shoes off and sat on the couch his knees against his chest bored to death. His head still hurt and he was feeling rather cold but he decided to ignore all of that, his transport was sick so what? He was still brilliant and his mind needed something to work on he thought, getting up but sitting back down instantly when a wave of dizziness hit him. A little nap could not hurt, could it? He stretched out on the couch and was asleep as soon as his head hit the cushions.

John came home a little late. There were so many sick people in London and they all seemed to have just one surgery to go to. But he had managed to buy some groceries on the way home. Proud with himself he stepped into the flat "éllo!" he said to Sherlock who was lying on the sofa, one arm over his eyes, but there was no response. John sat the grocery bags down onto the kitchen table, got rid of his jacket, scarf and shoes and tiptoed to the figure on the sofa. He could not be asleep now could he? He never slept during the day and rarely during the night. "Sherlock" he whispered but nothing. Seeing the rhythmic rise and fall of his flatmates chest John raised his brows in surprise. So he was asleep, Sherlock Holmes was sound asleep at quarter past five in the evening. A day to mark red in his calendar, John thought. He got a blanket, carefully wrapped his friend in it and trolled off to the kitchen to make dinner. When he was halfway through with it his phone beeped, a text from Lestrade.

**Sherlock ok? He seemed a bit off today, just checking! –GL**

John frowned and texted back

**Yeah he is asleep on the sofa, can you believe it? – JW**

Soon after he hit the "send" button his phone beeped again

**He is not sick is he? Sherlock never sleeps. – GL**

Curious now about what was going on, John stood up and walked as silently as he could, till he reached the still asleep Sherlock. He lay there in the same position he had been in when John came home, still breathing equally under the blanket. "Hey Sherlock!" John tried again this time not whispering. The detective made a little noise of discomfort and pulled the blanket up to his chin using the hand that was not occupied with lying on his face. "What´s wrong?" John wanted to know. As an answer he got a very silent "could you please not yell like that?". "I am not yelling Sherlock! Now move your arm away and look at me!" John commanded "Can´t" Said Sherlock "What do you mean you can´t? Come on!" He grabbed Sherlock's hand and pulled his arm off his face let go of it and saw it slamming down on Sherlock's stomach seconds after. "What is wrong with your arm Sherlock?" John nearly shouted taking Sherlock´s hand into his own examining it "nothing it is fine! It just fell asleep, happens when a limb is elevated for a while you should know that!" John´s cheeks flushed a little "what is wrong with the rest of you then... you never sleep during the day" he said letting go of Sherlock´s hand. "I don´t know and I don´t care and pleaaase John could you whisper?" the detective said pulling the blanket over his eyes. "Well, I could find out and if you haven´t noticed already I do care, have to for your sake" Sherlock just grunted at that turning away from John. "Let me sleep!" He said after a bit of silence, he could still feel John crouching next to the sofa. "I am not doing anything!" John said in defence "You are hovering and thinking it makes my head hurt and I can´t fall back asleep!" Sherlock whined. What happened next caught the detective off guard. He felt nice cool fingers on his scalp slowly making their way from the back of his head to his forehead and back massaging in slow circles. He almost wanted to push his head back against them like a cat, instead he just sighed. John was surprised himself he had never touched Sherlock´s soft dark hair before and it felt good under his fingertips, he had not thought about it just reached out and began stoking. He was glad that Sherlock seemed to be enjoying it otherwise it would have been quite an awkward situation. "Your head is really hot Sherlock" He said trying not to talk to loud "thank you" came a muffled reply from the man lying before him. "NO! Not like that you git! You know what I mean!" He said stopping the stroking and noticing his friend wince a little at the loss of contact. "I know!" Sherlock said turning toward John "I was just teasing please don´t stop!" He nudged his head in John's direction, a sign for him to continue what he had been doing before. And he did, stroking through Sherlock's curls with his left hand and placing the other on his forehead "but I mean it Sherlock you´re burning up, any other symptoms?" Sherlock sighed audibly, and there he was John Watson in his doctor mode "Headache, dizziness, my throat is sore" he stated "okay wait here I´ll be right back!" John said with a last stroke of his friend's head before he got up and headed for the stairs. "Where else would I go!?" Sherlock shouted after him waving his arms through the air in a big annoyed gesture.


	2. Chapter 2

**SO here it is the second chapter please let me know what you think about it :) Cheers! **

**-Ancki**

Five minutes later John returned with his brown leather bag, that Sherlock knew only too well from "borrowing" stuff. "Sherlock? Have you gone back to sleep?" He said rather surprised to find his friend with his eyes closed again. "No, just resting my eyes" Sherlock replied "That bad?" John said a, concerned look on his face, "Don´t look at me like that John! I am not dying, just have the flu or something. You can put that bag of yours back where it belongs" "You can´t even see me and still you..? You know what never mind, I just want to know that it is nothing more serious alright?" He said opening his bag.

Sherlock opened one eye and said "And how do you want to do that? There is nothing in your bag with which you can find out if is nothing more serious than the flu and…" John cut him off "could you just bare with me here for a moment while I do what I was trained for?" Sherlock looked at him in surprise, then laid back and mumbled, "If you have to", more to himself than to John, who now had a stethoscope dangling around his neck and was armed with an ear thermometer, "going to check your temperature first" he informed his friend and put the head of the thermometer in his ear.

After a little while it made a little beeping noise and John at back looking at the device "39.7 you are staying in bed mister" "not in bed at the moment am I?" Sherlock said lazily which was ignored by John "sit up for me please!" he said his stethoscope ready for action. When Sherlock obeyed he put the bell under his shirt, which had already become loose and was no longer positioned in his trousers.

"God that's cold John where do you keep it? In the fridge?" Sherlock said once the Bell had touched his pale, hot skin John just ignored him again sliding the device over his friends back a few times instructing him to take deep breaths.

When he was done John reached for the buttons of Sherlock´s shirt "I can undress myself you know!?" the younger man stated. He seemed kind of small and vulnerable like this, cheeks flushed with fever or even embarrassment, shoulders dropped forwards and shivering. "Just one button, I don´t want to undress you Sherlock " John said smiling at his friend who did not meet his eyes.

Once the button was undone John slipped his hand an the bell inside Sherlock´s shirt again repeating the steps from before and then listened to his heart a little too long for Sherlock's liking. "Something the matter ?" He asked his eyes now pinned to John´s face trying to read something in his expressions.

The doctor pulled the stethoscope from his ears shook his head and said "No, just sounds nice" Sherlock just gave him a what-the-hell look and let himself sink back down onto the sofa awaiting Johns next steps and already fed up with this situation. But John just put his bag aside, looked at him and said, "do you want some tea?" "What, that´s it?" Sherlock said surprised "Yeah of course that´s it, what did you expect? That I drag you to the surgery and poke you with needles?" John could not help but laugh at his friend's expression.

He was answered with a look that said "something like that at least" the doctor sighed, "So tea it is, I´ll put honey in yours is that alright?" He said while rising from his position. Sherlock nodded and closed his eyes again.

A few moments later John came back and positioned a white mug in Sherlock´s hands and the detective began sipping on it gratefully. "I´d like you to go to bed when you´re done with that " John said after a while Sherlock looked at him confused "And what, do you expect me to do there" he asked "Well, rest, sleep, sweat off the fever just to give a few examples" John took the mug from Sherlock´s hands, seeing that he was done with his tea, before he turned to go to the kitchen he added "doctors orders by the way".

And as if there was no argument on earth to put against that Sherlock actually sat up, then stood and started walking in the direction of his bedroom. John just stood there and looked at him in surprise as the younger man walked past him, in what looked like very exhausting steps.

Reaching his bedroom door Sherlock stopped and turned around to face John who was still standing in the kitchen the two empty mugs in his hands. "John?" He asked sounding unsure he had his flatmates attention. "Yes?" John said not really knowing what else to say. Sherlock´s ears turned a bright shade of pinkish red as he asked, "Would you uhm do that thing again? What you did before with your hand it…felt nice…relaxing.." Not waiting for John to answer he slipped through his bedroom door and left it open a crack.

John smiled to himself, put the mugs into the sink and followed Sherlock into his room. The detective was already in bed und under the covers sound asleep. John had to smile again and sat on the edge of the bed reaching out to touch Sherlock´s head. Once his fingers were buried into the thick dark curls Sherlock began humming in his sleep.

**Got a little carried away in the fluffy stuff :) hope you liked it, chapter three will be about another one of John´s friends in need of his help so keep on watching I will upload it soon.**


	3. Chapter 3

Bubbles. Bubbles of various sizes surrounding his body floating upwards, wherever upwards was. His curls floating around his head, seemingly moving up and down to a song that he was unable to hear. His dressing gown and his pyjamas were kind of floating around his limbs as well, but it was so peaceful and quiet he hardly cared. He closed his eyes letting himself drift into the coolness around him. It was almost like being underwater, but that would he would not be able to breath. His eyes opened in terror and he tried to swim to where the bubbles were headed, but the surface seemed unreachable. He opened his mouth, in order to shout for help but there was no sound, just more bubbles coming out, leaving his lungs feeling painfully empty.

Sherlock opened his eyes to meet John´s fixed on him. John´s nose was almost touching his own, and he was saying something. But it seemed to be so far away, Sherlock was unable to understand what it was. John´s hands were on him as well. One was on his right shoulder, the other holding his left wrist in a firm grip. Slowly, Sherlock's senses returned to him. "Sherlock! Breathe come on! Take a deep breath in, you can do it" Once he realised what John was trying to tell him, Sherlock exhaled the breath he did not know he had been holing and inhaled, almost painfully, seconds later.

"That´s it, nice and slow. What on earth have you been dreaming about Sherlock?" John asked, while he let himself fall back against the bed´s headboard, he looked kind of exhausted. "I…was…underwater….couldn't breath…..horrible" Sherlock managed to say between ragged breaths. "Yeah, I got that part, you almost suffocated. It was hard to wake you as well, you kept punching and kicking" John said and then he asked, "How are you anyway? Feeling any better?" Once Sherlock had caught his breath, he just stared at John for a few moments, as if to check for himself, if he felt any different. Then he let his head flop back onto the pillow "Nope" he said, "nothing´s changed. God I hate this!" He turned to his side, away from John, and brought his knees in, curling up in a tight ball. The doctor got out of bed and around it, to face the detective. "Come on" he said, pulling the sheets tight around his friends shoulders, tugging him in. "Give it a few days and you´ll be right as rain again. I´ll make sure of it" he straightened his back and turned to leave, when Sherlock caught one of his wrists in his hand and said "have you been here all night?" John looked a bit amused "Yes, but I fell asleep right next to you, sorry wont happen again" Sherlock let go and John left for the kitchen. He could swear he had heard something that sounded like "I don´t mind" coming from the bundle of detective, covered in white sheets.

When John came back, carrying two cups of steaming hot tea, Sherlock had not changed his position. John almost thought he went back to sleep but when he lowered himself on the edge of the bed, Sherlock´s eyes flipped open. "I should eat something" He stated, taking the cup John offered him into his hands, while he sat up and leaned against the headboard. "Wait? Has your fever gone up?" John said resting one of his hands on Sherlock´s forehead. The detective gave him a confused look. "No, still the same. Can you repeat that last bit for me please? I think I have misheard it" Sherlock just pushed John´s hand away, "Don´t mock me! Yes, I said I should eat something, but fine I wont of you don´t want me to." He crossed his arms over his chest and looked the other way. "Oh Sherlock," John said in a soothing tone "I did not want to upset you. It´s just, well, you barely ask for food I just tried to be funny. So what do you want to eat?" "I don´t care, soup or something" the detective replied, still looking away "so, you want me to make soup? Or is canned soup alright, too?" John wanted to know "Canned will be fine, thank you," Sherlock said "I won't be able to taste anything anyway."

With that John got up and headed for the kitchen.

A few days later, Sherlock was right as rain again, as John had promised he would be. And on top that, they were on a case. A double murder, which as Sherlock put it, was very promising to be an interesting one.

They were also back, to their usual distance. Which was not exactly to John's liking. He had liked them getting closer but he was not sure about Sherlock`s point of view, so he did not bring it up. While John was having a discussion in his head, about weather he was into men or not, Sherlock was crouching down next to one of the victims, to get a closer look. "John," he said turning ´round "What do you think about this?"

Startled and ripped from his thoughts, John tried to make sense of the scene in front of him.

"Well, I'd say they were murdered. Obviously, but they were not killed here. Because there is no blood anywhere and no sign of a struggle. Also their bodies were arranged to look peaceful. Maybe a sign of sentiment might also be a message or something. Someone took a lot of time and effort to arrange this" at the last word, he made a gesture with his hand, in the direction of all the flowers, neatly put in place, surrounding the dead bodies.

Sherlock just looked at him for a few seconds and then said, "Have you been practicing?" John flushed "I… well I´ve had a good teacher, right?" He said more to the ground, than to his friend.

They did not talk on the cab ride to Barts. Sherlock was the first to speak when they entered the morgue; Molly was nowhere to be seen. "John, I …I just want to make sure you understand. Like I said when we first met. I consider myself married to my work and…well, about last week I…" He did not seem to be able to find the words. Funny thing, John thought. Sherlock Holmes, Mister punch line and yet he could not find the right words.

"It´s okay, Sherlock." John said, to break the silence. "You were sick. I was worried and unprofessional. And I am still not gay, so no worries, OK?" Having said that, John felt guilty for not telling the truth. Or was he telling the truth? He was not quite sure.

But what he was sure of was, that Sherlock's expression changed, the moment he had finished his sentence. It did no longer show embarrassment, for whatever he had tried to tell John moments ago. It was disappointment. Sadness even.

"Right." The younger said, his voice breaking a bit.

Before John could say another word, Molly entered. She seemed surprised to see them. "Oh, I did not expect you two this early. The bodies just got here and I have lots of paper work to do, so it might take a while." She said, dropping her papers on a nearby table.

"No problem, we were just leaving" Sherlock said and left, without loosing another second. "I erm…did I do something?" Molly looked surprised "No, it´s fine. Not his day I think. We´ll come back later," John said, turning to leave. When he was halfway through the door, Molly said, "He looks sad, you know?" The doctor turned back around "excuse me?" He asked. "He looks sad, when you are not here, or when he thinks you can´t see him" She replied. John gave her a confused look and stepped through the door.

It was raining outside, and Sherlock was gone. Not knowing where to search for his friend, John went home.

He was surprised to find, that Sherlock also had gone back to their flat. He was sprawled out on the couch and a nicotine-patched arm was covering his eyes.

„So, this is a three patch case?" John said, while he was hanging up his soaked coat. "Obviously" was the only reply he got. Sherlock then turned to face the wall. John stood there, staring at his friends back. So what he had said earlier, was not forgotten?

He sat down in his chair, opened the newspaper and began to read. But a few seconds after he had started, John folded the paper in his lab and said," What's the problem, Sherlock?" "No Problem at all John" came the reply from the couch.

"If it is about what I said, I did not mean to be rude. I just, I am not sure… I thought you were implying.." great, now he was the one who could not find the words to say whatever he had tried to say just now.

Sherlock on the couch turned to face John. His arms around his knees, his satin curls brushing against the leather of the couch and his ice blue eyes darting over the older man in the chair opposite him.

"John, do you like me?" He asked. John met his gaze "Of course I do Sherlock, why else would I…" "No!" Sherlock interrupted him "let me rephrase that, do you love me?"

John's mouth went dry at that question, he thought for a moment or two, and said "I don´t know Sherlock, I honestly don´t know" "How come?" Sherlock wanted to know.

"Hard to explain, what about you though, do you…you know, love me?" John felt, as if his heart had stopped beating. Waiting for the answer, which might bloody well change his whole life.

Sherlock inhaled sharply "I think I do" he said. And then there was silence. The next thing that happened was the newspaper falling to the floor as John stood, "You think, you do? What is that supposed to mean?" He wanted to know.

"You are the first person I ever had…well, feelings for and I just don´t know if it is, what everybody calls love. Because if it is, then I am not sure I want it."

"Explain" John said, closing the distance between the two and sitting down on the coffee table in front of Sherlock.

"It feels as if something is wrong with me. One moment I am happy because we´re on a case together. The next, you tell me that you are obviously not gay and it feels like I am having a heart attack. I don´t know what to do, what to say around you. That is why I kept my distance. No idea if you noticed or not. See? I can´t think straight when I am around you. It is both nice and scary as hell. I.." A hand on his head interrupted him. John was leaning forward, stroking through his curls. "Say something" Sherlock demanded.

"I can do one better" John said leaned forward until their lips met.


End file.
